


There is Hope in the Darkness

by Herbeloved82



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbeloved82/pseuds/Herbeloved82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is John's perfect Killing machine, forged in years of abuse and violence. He lost his soul and heart the night Sam left. Years later Dean finds Sam, and he wants to make him pay. But even if in a twisted way he still loves his baby Brother. Can Sam gives Dean back his heart and at what price? Is there still hope for the two of them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is Hope in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an experiment. I ned a Beta, so if anyone is interested let me know ok?  
> The story deals with child abuse and violence. If this is not your cup of tea please don't read

The rain was so strong that Dean was having trouble seeing the road in front of him, but not even that was enough to stop the man driving the black Impala, the last thing of his past that he really loved. One of the few things he was fond of that was somehow related to his family.

 

Many would say that that was impossible, because Dean, one of the most feared hunters in the world, didn't have a heart. In many ways that was true. In many ways he had lost his soul and heart doing what was his job, and he didn't regret a single moment of that.

 

He had gained his reputation when John was still alive, and he had been his pupil; the perfect little soldier ready to follow every order his father gave him. He had learn too early in his life that what was used by parents to scare their children and make them behave, all the creatures lurking in the shadow and darkness ready to hit, were real. And he had learned that his place in the world was between innocent people and those creatures. It didn't matter if he had lost his own innocence doing that.

 

When John had passed out two years ago, during a hunt, left Dean doing the job alone. He never stopped driving the Impala since the moment he buried John; he never stopped because only running from one place to another, only hunting everything he could, no matter how small or big, Dean could keep himself from thinking about what was clear to everyone else. He was slowly turning in what he was hunting since he was a little boy.

 

Dean knew perfectly that he was exactly what John had built day after day in a life spent between seedy motels and dealing with a man so angry that he had needed someone to vent all the rage he had inside since the moment Mary had died. He was a perfect machine; born to kill monsters and die doing that. Dean didn't have any other expectation for his life.

 

Forged  by nights spent defending himself and his little brother from ancient Gods, and creatures born in the depth of hell, and by days spent studying everything he could about rituals, evil, and demons. John had been a tough teacher, and the only time Dean was ever allowed to rest was when he was recovering from a hunt injury.

 

Dean could remember every single injury related to hunts, and he still remembered all too well that he never was alone in bed. Dean had learned since the very beginning that he wasn't only his father's apprentice. John owned everything of him, and Dean had been OK with that, because if John was busy with him it meant that Sammy was safe.

 

John had taught him how to survive, he had taught him everything he knew, and in some ways he had felt almost natural to sleep with John, above all after the first few times when John beat the shit out of him before he had raped him.  

 

The only thing that John wasn't able to teach him had been how to keep his humanity in a world so dark, because John had lost his own humanity when he had lost Mary. Sam had been the only light in his life, the only pure thing Dean had, and one day he had walked away from his life, leaving him deep into darkness. There were good reason why Dean was so feared, even between the hunter community.

 

Bobby, one of the older hunters, and one of the few men able to make John Winchester listen to him, had been the only one to know what Sam did the moment he had left the family, but like anyone else even the older man had been shocked when that happened. Sam absolutely adored his big brother.

 

That had been the last time that Bobby had drank himself an inch from his death when he had realized that Dean's soul had been lost for good. After everything Dean had done for the puppy, after all the times he had saved his ass from monsters, and from John, he had left without even say goodbye, like Dean wasn't even worth the time for that. Or at least that was what Dean had told him, years later, when he had been so high because of the morphine that Bobby had pumped into his body before to stitch him back together after a wendigo had come too close to kill him.

 

Since the day Sam left, Dean had become darker and darker every day. After John's death, Bobby had been the only one brave enough to try to stay as close to Dean as the boy allowed anyone to be. After Sam's betrayal, Dean had ripped his heart from his chest, and had locked it somewhere. After so many years, no one had found it yet. 

 

***

 

Dean was dead tired. He had spent the last two weeks hunting down and destroying a whole pack of Vampires. Those bastards were terrifying a small town in Oregon, and all because some stupid girls had believed what the leader of the pack told them, about never-ending love, and about immortality. They put the whole community in danger. When it had been clear, for many it had been too late. Still the girls had tried to protect the leeches, and ended up dead before Dean had time to save their sorry asses. Actually, he wasn't even sad about that loss.

 

Usually destroying young vampires wasn't too hard for a skilled hunter, but that time their creator had been there, and they were too many for a man alone. They had come very close to end Dean's life, and his body was still wearing the signs of them. He probably had a couple of ribs badly bruised, and in the morning he was pretty sure was going to show a boot print on his back when one of the bastards had kicked him. Fire and a bit of his blood were enough to get rid of the whole pack once and for all.

 

Bobby had insisted for him to come visit, and for once Dean had decided to follow the advice. Bobby had a great collection of books and was an expert in rituals. It was rare for the man to allow anyone to use his knowledge, and Dean could use a little rest. He was honest enough to know that he couldn't keep going on like he was doing now. To spend a week or something with the old man sounded as a good idea after all. His body was screaming in agony, his mind was spinning too fast, all signs that even if Dean wasn't happy about that, he needed to stop at least for a few days, before he made himself too vulnerable and an easy target. 

 

*** 

 

The road was so long that for a moment Dean had to wonder if it wasn't actually endless. He needed to stop before he and his beloved Impala ended up a twisted pretzel around a pole or against a wall. He was close to a hell-hole of a city, probably not even reported on the maps, and Dean had to pray that they had at least a bar. He needed ~~a~~ alcohol in his body, a lot of alcohol, and he could thank John for that too. He smiled bitterly remembering the first time alcohol had burned his throat. 

 

Nothing was better than strong, cheap alcohol to forget the pain of a hunt, or the pain of a cock fucking the shit out of you. Damn. He missed John, he always missed him after a hunt. John had conditioned him so deeply that even after two years Dean still needed him after a hunt. He needed him to stop his mind from thinking, and of course, the bastard was gone.  

 

He needed the human contact, something so small and normal for people, but that Dean was always in denial. Dean missed John's rough fingers between his hair, grabbing him and dragging him into a punishing and hard kiss. He missed John pushing him on the back-seat of the Impala, taking what he wanted from him, fucking him hard and fast, making Dean forget everything else.

 

If Dean was honest with himself he unconsciously knew that what John did to him was wrong, on so many levels that he didn't even know from were to start, but he didn't care. He had stopped to care a long time ago. His life had never been a normal one. He never had a normal family, so why to follow the rules of society? Society never gave a fuck about him when he was a child, and for sure he didn't need them now.

    

Dean had fucked whores in the past two years. Male and female, it didn't matter to him. He loved sex, he loved to have sex, but he never found someone able to give him what John did. He never found someone able to understand his need to forget everything, or able to understand or handle the darkness inside him. They all had played the role that they thought Dean wanted them to play, and that had been all. Dean never found again what he was looking for, that thing able to shut up the pain he carried in his soul. A pain the origin he desperately wanted to forget.  

 

While he was still lost in his own thoughts Dean saw a bar. He had earned his drink, and didn't even care if anyone with some brain would have stayed away from that place. The bar was loud and smoky, but it also was surprisingly cleaner that most of the places he had lurked during his life. Dean took a seat in a corner. From there he could control everything that was happening in the bar, and in the same time being totally invisible if someone was nosy enough to try to spy on him.

 

The only one who saw him, was a girl, probably too young to even being allowed to work in a place like that, and she had been able to do that only because Dean had wanted her to know he was waiting for her. She came to him and took his order, almost fainting when he asked for a beer and a whole bottle of whiskey. Dean had to smirk just thinking about her face when she was going to find out that he could drink the whole things without getting drunk.

 

He just wanted to rest for a while, drinking his liquor, and just forgetting about demons for a few moments, but of course he finished his luck coming out alive from his meeting with vampires. Some guys, in a table close enough to allow Dean to listen to them without being seen, were talking about strange things happening in the area. It looked like a family had died in a house fire. That alone wasn't something that could interest Dean, what interested him was that apparently the fire had started in the nursery, and the baby was the only survivor. Dean had been ready to leave the bar hunting for a motel room to make some phone calls when something else in that crazy night drew his attention.       

 

His eyes were scanning the place, looking for yellow eyes, making sure that the thing that had killed his mother and broken John crated the monster he had learned to know wasn't there. When he saw the only thing in the whole world that was able to kill him without even touching him. 

 

The girl who had given him the bottle was talking to the tall bartender. The boy was almost bent over the counter, and that was probably the only reason why Dean didn't see him sooner. The girl was trying to catch his attention, but it looked like the guy wasn't interested. The boy looked distracted, so distracted that he wasn't even paying attention to what was happening under his nose. He was so focused in helping beers and cheap food that was vulnerable to every possible attack, and that was making Dean's blood boil in his veins.

 

   

 

Dean remembered perfectly all the time he had spent making sure to teach him how to protect himself, teaching him to always control wherever he was, to pay attention to everything, because you never knew when something was going to try to attack and kill you, but the stupid kid obviously had forgotten everything.

 

Dean was almost blind with rage. He had to fight to need to jump on him and beat the shit out of him for his stupidity, right here, right now, but he knew that that would be a mistake. The part of his brain that was still working was screaming to him to calm down and study the situation. He needed a good plan, and Dean was good at planning. 

 

He knew he couldn't attack the kid in the bar. Too many people around. Maybe they weren't even going to try to fight for the bartender, but chance were good enough that someone was going to call the police, and that was a family matter, Dean didn't need any witness or the cops nosing around. No, he had to be careful. The kid deserved a lesson, and he was the one who was going to make sure that he never made the same mistake again.

 

Dean smirked when his phone began to ring. It looked like Bobby was always aware when the darker part of his soul was close to the surface. Dean decided to answer the phone this time, because the last thing he needed was to have Bobby all over his ass. The only time his phone was off was when he was hunting, and Bobby already knew that that wasn't the case. If he knew Bobby well enough he knew that the man would have simply kept calling him. Making it useless trying to ignore him.

 

***

 

Bobby wanted to know where the hell Dean was. He was waiting for him, and wanted to be sure Dean would have showed up at some point.

The older man was worried for ~~the~~ him, more than other would have ever understood. They all saw Dean as a machine, but Bobby new better.

Bobby had known the kid he once was, and was sure that somewhere that kid was still alive. Hidden from the world, but still alive and he wasn't going to give up on him, never.

 

There wasn’t a day that he didn’t curse John’s name for everything he did to his own son. Bobby had been John’s friend, since the moment the younger man had began to hunt for the thing that had killed his wife and almost destroyed his family. Bobby had been one of the few hunters aware of what the yellow eyed thing was, and had decided to help the new hunter, because he couldn't turn his back to a lost man with two small children. But everything had changed when he had learned what really happened behind the closed doors of cheap motels, every time that John had been alone with Dean. 

 

After that he had tried in every possible way to protect Dean, he had tried to be present, and to force John to visit him every time the man had been anywhere close to his house. But he sadly was well aware that the damages done to Dean were probably going to last all his life long.

 

Bobby wasn't a psychiatrist, but he had learned a couple of things in the years that he spent as an hunter, talking to terrified kids who were witnesses of things that no one could believe. He knew that what had really killed the kid and pushed out the hunter John created, had been Sam's betrayal.

 

Since the moment the puppy had abandoned Dean, Bobby couldn't stop to think about him as John's perfect son. Both of them had hurt Dean beyond imagination, both of them had killed a part of his soul. But at least now, after so many years, Bobby thought he began to understand what had really happened. He could only hope in his heart that somewhere, someone cared enough for everything that the kid had lived and survived to finally decide to make things right for him, somehow.  

 

Something in his bones was telling him that was time to call the kid. He had this unpleasant feeling that the boy was ready for an unorthodox hunt. He always could feel when the darker part of him, John's creation, was close. He liked to think that he could because Mary knew he really cared for her son, and gave him the power to really look after him. Even a hunter, sometimes, needs something to believe in. Bobby liked to believe in Mary's love for her children. 

 

Bobby was relieved when Dean picked up his call, but in the same time he had known something was off the moment he heard Dean’s voice.

The first thought that crossed his mind was that the kid finally found the demon who destroyed his family and his life, but he knew that wasn’t possible. In that case Dean would have been busy hunting the bastard down.

 

“Hey kid, you on your way?”

 

Bobby knew well how much Dean hated to be called kid, it was the reason he always did that, to have a reaction from the otherwise cold and controlled boy he loved as the son he never had.

 

“Sorry man. It looks like I have a new hunt. I don't know how long I'll be gone. But I'll visit as soon as I can.”

 

Dean had hanged up before Bobby could even answer. Not that Bobby was going to fight with him, not now that the boy finally accepted to visit; but the bad feeling he had just increased when Dean told him he would have been a little later than he thought.

 

***

 

Dean knew Bobby was worried, and he hated to know he was the cause of that. Bobby always had been the closer thing to a father that he ever had, and the part of his souls that still could feel something still loved Bobby, but he couldn't give up this opportunity, not now, not even for the old man.

 

Bobby had tried to keep Dean with him after John's death, but he knew he couldn't stay with someone who still loved him. He couldn't because Dean knew all too well that he was broken, he was too dark, and sooner or later he knew he was going to hurt Bobby. So he simply kept his distance.

 

To be alone was easier. But after tonight, maybe, just maybe, he was going to have someone by his side again. Someone who wasn't going to walk away, because he was going to make sure the kid depended on him for everything. Dean had learned well how to train a pet. How to make sure to have total control over someone's mind and body. He still wasn't sure that he was going to keep the kid for more than a little time, but this time he was going to make sure that if someone was going to walk away in the death of the night, it was going to be him.  

 

*** 

 

Dean kept a close eye on the bartender all night. He was still able to see when someone came into the bar or when someone left, but his attention was all for the tall boy in the other side of the place. The girl came to his table a couple of time more, after Dean decided he could eat something while he waited for his prey to show him it was time to move.

His ribs were killing him with every breath, maybe he had been too hopeful declaring them simply bruised, but it wasn't like he could do much about that.

 

“Do you want anything else?”

 

Dean looked at the girl closely now. She looked exhausted, and probably her feet were killing her. The closing time wasn't too far away, so he simply asked for another beer, to make sure he could be between the last costumers to leave without raising suspects.

Dean knew he was going to need a little time to prepare everything, but with his skills, he was sure he could do everything he had in mind without trouble.

 

When the bartender and the girl were between the last few people still inside the bar, Dean slipped in the darkness and chose his place to hide and control everything happening in the street. Again, he felt his rage rise. The stupid puppy didn’t even realise someone was sitting in the darker corner of the place he worked in.

 

Dean didn’t have to wait too long. As the perfect gentleman he was, the bartender walked the girl to her car. At least she was old enough to have one, and as the always as the perfect gentlemen he declined her offer to meet at her house.

That was very good, because Dean would have hated to hurt the girl.

 

His prey walked to an old truck without even realise someone was following him. The truck was old and rusty, and Dean knew that probably was all the puppy could afford with his pay. By the look on his face Dean was also able to say that the puppy was proud of the old thing, and he knew he had found the first thing the boy was going to lose. The first thing of a long, long list. 

 

The boy didn’t even realised what was happening when the first kick in the back of his knee made him fall hard. He didn’t even had the time to cover his face with his hands before the hood of his own trunk hit him hard.

A hand between his hair forced him to stay put. All his body was screaming for him to react, to use all the dirty tricks his father taught him a long time ago, but when he heard the voice behind him he just froze. All his energies suddenly drained.

 

“Hello Sammy? Did you miss me?”

 

 

***

 

Sam woke up slowly. His head hurt like a bitch and he only had foggy memories of what happened to him. Then, in a rush, everything came back to his mind.

He was looking to the shape of a man, almost hidden in the shadow where the dim light of the small table lamp couldn't reach him. He knew who the man was. Sam was still able to read his body language and Dean was fucking pissed off. His shoulders were tense and curved, like if he was ready to jump as a wildcat and kill his prey, and Sam knew he was Dean’s prey.

 

“Dean?”

 

 

He couldn’t resist any longer. The silence in the room was overwhelming and he had to break it in some ways.

For years, he had wanted to say his brother’s name with him in the room, not at some walls in rooms he rented in hope to escape a life he never really wanted and a father that ceased to be one the moment his wife died.

 

Dean smirked wickedly.

 

“My, my Sammy. I’m so glad you still remember my name.”

 

Sam couldn’t recognise his brother, his loving and beloved brother, in the person who was looking at him with empty and cold eyes, like if the beautiful soul that lived inside him was gone.

 

Dean dropped on the bad in front of the chair Sam was tied to and for the first time the younger man could see Dean was playing with his hunt knife, the one with the spell against demons inlaid in silver.

 

“Dean?”

 

The older man didn't answer, but he slapped Sam so hard that the boy tasted blood in his mouth from where his own teeth bit into tender flesh.

 

“I don't want to hear a word Sammy. I want to hear you scream and cry, but you are not going to speak otherwise.”

 

Sam was looking at his brother with his huge, hazelnut eyes huge with shock, and what he saw, for the first time wasn't his brother, but John's son.

 


End file.
